


Leave, Quackity

by snekylady



Series: The Realm~ Dream SMP Snippets. [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Physical Abuse, Quackity gets hurt a lot, Song: Leave Luanne (35mm: A Musical Exhibition), What Was I Thinking?, ghosty ghosty quack man, quack man go bye bye, schlatt is cruel, schlatt is terrified, whoooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snekylady/pseuds/snekylady
Summary: This is based off the song "Leave Luanne" from 35mm: A Musical Exhibition.here's the link to the song on youtube-**Please read tags, I don't want anyone getting triggered...
Series: The Realm~ Dream SMP Snippets. [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190972
Kudos: 11





	Leave, Quackity

He was drunk again. 

Quackity brushed the tears off of his bruised face, wincing as his sore arms moved. The pan on the stove hissed, the bacon inside of it frying nicely. He hobbled over to it, flipping the bacon. A stir came from the couch where he lay, and a hand flopped up. “Table,” he said grouchily. Quackity bit his lip, tugging his beanie off. “I can’t get the plates.” he muttered. Schlatt got up, swaying. “What?” He growled. A liquor bottle hung menacingly in his hand. He stumbled forward, closer to him. 

Quackity backed up, afraid. “I can’t get the plates. They’re high up.” 

“Use yur ‘arms, flatty patty.” Schlatt snorted. He took another swig from the bottle, thumping it down at the solid wood table and collapsing in a chair. Quackity cringed at the nickname, reaching up for the plastic clear plates in the top cupboard. 

“I’m hungry.” Schlatt roared, pounding his fist on the table. Quackity jumped, dropping the plastic. Schlatt, for some reason, found this extremely funny. 

Quackity picked up the plates, tears in his eyes. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t- 

He should leave. 

He should leave. Why didn’t he leave? Schlatt wasn’t any good for him- 

He should leave- These were times of war, and he was the one dying on the floor- 

Schlatt grabbed the plate loaded with meat from his hands, snarling. “I’ll make yers, sit-” Schlatt huffed. The bottle was on the table- Quackity sat. 

He stayed. 

~~~

Again. 

It had gotten worse, the drinking. Since he’d been elected. 

More and more bottles- more protein shakes, too, instead of actual food. 

He wasn’t nice before- but now he was cruel. 

Quackity flinched as the current bottle was thrown at his head. “Yeahhh, look at that.” Schlatt yelled, oblivious to how loud he was being. Quackity sighed as Schlatt began to open another bottle. “I think.. You’ve had enough…” he said gently, taking the bottle away. 

Schlatt slapped him across the face, easily knocking him down. “I’ll decide that.” he snarled. Quackity rose and fled- out of the room. He’d never leave for good- he’d never get out- 

“Quackity! Are you okay?” Tubbo asked, coming from around the corner. He straightened up, putting on his best smile. “Yeah. yeah, this was an accident. Get ice with me?” he asked. Tubbo nodded, changing directions. “That looks like it hurts.” tubbo said, touching the spot gingerly. Quackity winced, but smiled through it. Tubbo couldn’t know- he would try to stop it, and he’d get killed. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew what would happen. 

“It doesn’t, surprisingly.” He lied. Tubbo nodded, stopping to talk with another executive. 

Quackity walked on to the kitchenette, shaking now that he was alone. 

He wouldn’t ever get out. No, he wouldn’t. 

Even if he did, Schlatt would just come for him again.

And again. And he’d hurt him. Maybe even kill him…

He couldn’t leave. 

He sighed, grabbing the ice pack from the fridge- a constant relief in his life- and pressed it to his face. 

Besides. Tubbo was here, too, and if Schlatt didn’t take it out on him…

He let out a quiet scream. He’d never get out of this- the hitting, drinking- the screaming- 

This was worse than death. 

~~~

He couldn’t do it anymore. 

His arms were sprained. His face was bruised. 

He needed out. Tubbo was kinda safe, for now- 

He had to get out. 

Schlatt, behind him, tossed another bottle in the can. “What’re you lookin’ at?” He asked. Quackity turned, half smiling. A plan was hatching. “I’m watching the hill area- where we’re building currently.” he said, pointing. Schlatt stood, half drunk. “Let’s go check it out.” he said, grabbing his coat. 

Quackity smiled. “Sure.” 

~~

The land was literally a forest. “We’re building here?” Schlatt asked, stumbling over a tree root. Quackity nodded. “We’ll level it, of course.” he murmured. He looked around- this looked like a good place. He pulled a bottle of scotch he’d swiped from Schlatt’s office out of his bag and opened it. “Here, look.” he said, shoving it in Schlatt’s hand. “All this into cobblestone, I know how much you like cobblestone, schlatt-” he rambled. Schlatt took a swig and nodded, wiping his mouth on his hand. “And there- what was that?” Quackity took off, running. Just as he’d thought, Schlatt followed drunkenly, stumbling and yelling. “What? What?” 

“I think I saw Wilbur!” Quackity yelled back, putting on speed. Schlatt sped up too, stopping where he did. It started to rain, the fat droplets crashing into his head. Schlatt cursed, swiping at them. 

“Ok. you go that way, i’ll go this way.” Quackity said quickly, shoving Schlatt in one direction. “Find him!” he yelled. This was his chance. No back glance, he took off. The river was this way- if he could just swim across, to neutral land- 

He was leaving. He was leaving for good.

He had a life- he wanted to live free. 

He’d never forget nor forgive. 

He barely felt the branches scratching at him as he crashed through the underbrush, wildly running towards the river. He jumped in, the water raging around him as he swam. 

He was free.

~~~~

Swim.

That was all he thought about. Swim. 

He barely felt the squid and fish shoot past him, his blood rushing in his veins. 

He swam with everything in him, sore, sprained arms pushing against the water. 

Finally, he came up for air on a sandy bank. Spitting up mouthfuls of water, he coughed. 

He felt a yank on his hair- his beanie had come off at some point. 

He stared, horrified, as Schlatt leered down at him. 

He’d beaten him there. 

~~~   
Schlatt laid in bed. 

“Quackity!” He yelled. Nothing. Oh. right. His assistant was dead now… he’d drowned himself in the river. 

He turned on his side, clinking the ever- present bottle against the wood floor of Quackity’s house. He liked Quackity. Guy was smart. Useful. 

But man- well. He was dead. A life gone to waste. Potential, gone to waste. 

No one seemed to care, anyway. 

No one was in the other room, either. 

And the heat was off- why was he so hot, though? It was steamy, too. 

He waved away some of the fog, frowning. Yet… his body was cold? He shivered, grabbing the blankets. The door cracked open. More fog poured in, the hot, sticky waves of it attacking him. He shouted at it, waving them away. A dripping sound came from the doorway, like a leaky pipe. 

“Schlatt.” 

He froze, looking up. 

Quackity stood there, head tilted. His suit was wet- soaked, really. His tie hung askew, seaweed hung from his beanie, draped around his shoulders. His face was pale, mouth open and gushing water as he spoke. His eyes were sunken pits, black and blue bruises around them grossly exaggerated. His arms hung limply to his sides, twisted. Broken. 

Schlatt screamed. “Leave, Quackity! Are you back for more?! No one’s mourning you!” he yelled in fear. 

“I’ve come to settle a score, Schlatt.” The ghost murmured. It was nothing like Quackity’s loud voice- like he was listening to the ghost speak through water. He moved his broken arms, lifting his pant legs up just enough so Schlatt could see the manacles tightly wrapped around his ankles. 

“You did this.” Quackity garbled. “And now I remain here.” 

Schlatt fell back on the bed, stunned. 

“I take souls like yours to hell, Schlatt.” Quackity screamed. “A fate worse than death! You never die! You just burn! And I-” he laughed, a hacking, wheezing, garbling sound- “I will make it ten times worse for you! You will never sleep in peace again! You will have no reprieve! No reprieve from me, Schlatt.” he hissed. 

Schlatt’s legs were tangled in chains, now. He screamed again, struggling to get out as ghost quackity stalked closer. “A caution, to you, cruelest of men.” Hie hissed, placing his hand around Schlatt’s neck. His grip was firm, choking. Schlatt gasped for air, the bottle dropping from his hand to shatter on the floor. 

“I will Remain.” 


End file.
